Life Worth Living
by BubbleToes313
Summary: Surviving in a post apocalyptic world can be enough to drive most people mad, but when you have someone to share the hell with things can be a bit easier. Rated M for sexual content. NedScot


Picking the lower lock on the door was easy enough. The device was cheap and the tumblers clicked into place almost without any assistance from his picks. For someone with as much experience as Lars, it took only about thirty seconds to have it open.

Who knew that a skill he picked up as a kid as a hobby, would actually be key to their survival now that the world had gone to hell?

The second lock, now it was far more stubborn. The heavy duty deadbolt that kept the door in place was far more difficult to pry open without feeling like he was going to snap the only set of picks that he had.

It didn't help that his companion was making it excruciatingly clear that he was in pain, distracting him from his task.

Not that Iain was actually speaking louder than a whisper, but the few pained noises that were slipping from his lips as he spoke were enough to leave Lars' hands trembling with frustration. He needed to get the door open so that he could patch up the wound that was staining his lover's thigh crimson and get the soft muffled growls of agony to stop.

"Hurry up would ye?" The pained Scot's voice rasped from the wall next to the door that Lars was crouched in front of. The man's voice was forced to be quieter, afraid that his voice would carry down the stairs and someone or something would hear him. "Mah leg is fucken' killin' me." He hissed softly, pressing his sweat soaked face into his knee caps a brief moment as his hands shook where they were pressed against his hip.

"I promise I'll have us inside in a second here sweetheart hold on." Lars murmured softly, reaching out to gently squeeze Iain's shuddering shoulder before turning back to the lock he was beginning to grow so frustrated with. Nodding slowly, Iain groaned as he felt his vision move towards the door at the end of the hall.

Turning his head towards the stairwell that Lars had already locked off, the red head couldn't help but feel as though he would see one of the creatures from outside would be standing there, limping towards them with gnashing teeth and hungry growls.

"Ah know we blocked the stairs off, but ah cannae help but think that maybe…" he began, cutting off when he caught the look that Lars shot him. A few moments later, the lock clicked open and Lars let out a triumphant noise, leaning in and pressing his lips slowly to Iain's forehead before standing stiffly.

Leaning down, the Dutchman pulled him into his arms as easily as if he were weightless, kissing the top of his head and shuddering when Iain let out a pained noise. "We're in the pent house sweetheart…" He pointed out softly, moving into the room and closing the door behind him, locking it once again without a second thought. "The only way up here is through that private stair case that we took, or the elevator that we both know isn't going anywhere without power. We're fine." He insisted sternly when Iain didn't seem so convinced.

Settling Iain on the dust coated couch, he brushed his knuckles over the man's grey cheek wishing that his lover's cheeks weren't so hallow, his bones not so noticeable under his skin. It wasn't that he wasn't trying his best to keep them both fed, but there was so little to eat in the city anymore that what they did find never lasted long.

He was beginning to think they would have to attempt to leave the city before Iain got sick, or he himself was injured and unable to support the man looking so trustingly up at him.

Moving back to the door, he grabbed onto the bookshelf resting beside the door and shoved it with ease in front of the door before placing the chain in place and letting out a shuddering sigh, running his fingers through his hair shakily.

"You know…we need to teach you how to dodge better." He murmured turning and moving into the rooms to ensure they were as empty as the rest of the floor smiling slightly when Iain let out a soft laugh. Reassured quickly that there was no one in the space, he moved back to his lover's side and pulled out the first aid kit that he kept strapped to his leg. "Let me take a look at that leg." He whispered, his voice coming out of his throat as less of an order, and more of a pleading request that the man go along with his attempts to patch him up for once in his stubborn life.

Iain nodded grimly at the man's request, a soft laugh falling from his lips despite himself as Lars pulled off his pants with a smile and moved to sit in between his legs as the Scotsman rested back against the couch. "Ah like this view." He pointed out in amusement, his fingers threading through Lars' pale hair, frowning when he felt strong slender fingers sliding up his good leg. "Wrong leg." He pointed out, lifting his blond lover's chin. When the man grinned wickedly up at him, he rolled his eyes, bending over enough to brush their lips together softly. The fingers responded to his correction by squeezing the same soft skin on his thighs, coaxing a blush from the redhead.

"My mistake." Lars winked as he turned his attention to the poorly bandaged wound on his lover's hip, marring the perfect cream colored skin. Closing his eyes a moment, the Dutchman grudgingly pulled back the bandages to reveal the jagged hole on his lover's leg. "Damn it…" he rasped as he gently prodded the skin around the wound, his lover gasping and tightening his fingers in his hair. "You said it just grazed you…" he accused gently, knowing that even if he had known the wound was worse than his lover had let on, they wouldn't have been able to stop and tend to it where they had been jumped.

Hissing softly, Iain growled as he pressed his face into Lars' hair. "It's…it's nae so bad." He insisted softly, his jade eyes sharp with pain. Grimacing when Lars glared, he furrowed his eyebrows with a soft muttered apology. "It could have been a hell of a lot worse if the bastard had better aim, darlin'." He attempted to reassure the man, knowing he was having no such luck when Lars narrowed his eyes once again and pressed a chaste kiss to Iain's unblemished inner thigh.

Shaking his head at Iain's reluctance to admit that he was either in pain, or hurt worse than he had previously thought, the Dutchman reached into the first aid kit and produced a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, not bothering to warn his lover as he splashed the burning substance onto the man's leg, moving to slam his lips against the Celt's as the man let out a strangled scream of pain, the crimson haired Scot's breathing accelerating instantly as his arms snaked out to wrap around his lover's neck.

"F…Fuck ye!" Iain gasped, pressing his lips against the man's again to stifle the agonized noise that ripped through his throat. Pulling away from the kiss only when Lars permitted him to, Iain panted as he slumped against the couch, a pained tears streaking down his cheek. Glancing down, he shuddered once his lover began to fish in the wound and locate the bits of the bullet still lodged in his muscle. "Ye got anything for me to drink?" Iain laughed breathlessly, his hand clenched around the couch cushion desperately.

"This is a penthouse sweetheart…I'm sure I can find you something if you behave." The Dutchman murmured looking up and feeling Iain's hands tighten in his hair when he found a particularly nasty piece of metal lodged dangerously close to his lover's femur. "We might be staying up here a few days at this rate you know. I don't want you to be walking on this leg if you don't have to." Lars sighed, pressing his lips to the pale inner thigh next to his face before pulling out a needle and thread from the kit and sanitizing them both.

Shuddering softly at the kiss and wincing when he felt the needle sliding into his skin, Iain gasped as he gripped at his lover's hair, his trembling face pressed into his scalp. A soft moan splitting his lip, Iain nodded, gritting his teeth and waiting for the steady hands to finish what they needed to do.

By the time that Lars was finished bandaging the wound, Iain was feeling groggy and light headed, his eyes glazed with dull pain. "This whole apocalypse shit kinda sucks…" Iain's jade eyes sparkled when he spoke, sliding his hands over Lars' chest while the man slid back. "Reminds me of mah first few years of living on mah own without health insurance…" He pointed out, his eyes glancing over the freshly bandaged wound.

Shaking his head Lars' lips curved into a small smile at the man's words, his arms sliding under him so that he could scoop him into the air "You're a pain in the ass you know that?" The blonde laughed, moving into the kitchen and settling Iain onto one of the counters.

Once Iain was appropriately situated, Lars hummed as he turned and began to rifle through the kitchen contents. The thing about most hotels was that most people had left the city during the initial scare, and the looters had stuck mostly to stores and more easily accessible targets. Climbing up fifteen flights of stairs was a bit risky for most just looking for something shiny or a bite to eat. That meant good news for the more adventurous duo, because most of the food was left alone. Pulling out a few cans of different soups as well as some fancy snacks that they could take with them on the road, Lars waved the findings at his lover and earned a soft laugh from the groggy man as he tossed a bar at him so that he could eat while the Dutchman hunted.

Opening up the remaining cabinets, the blonde beamed when he found the item in question that his lover had been asking for. "Not scotch…but I think it'll have to do." He chuckled, straightening and pressing the dusty bottle champagne into Iain's hand; smiling when the man examined the bottle with obvious amusement.

"A bit fancy for my taste, but ye know…ah think ah can manage." Iain smiled, laughing when the Dutchman grabbed a couple glasses from one of the cabinet. "So yer nae just going to let me drink straight from the bottle? Kill joy." Iain asked, accepting the glass and chuckling as he watched the blond fish in his pocket for his pocket knife.

It took a minute for Lars to get the cap off of the bottle, earning a laugh from Iain when a pop filled the air and some of the liquid fizzed out over the top and ran across Lars' fingers. Reaching out a hand, Iain wrapped his fingers around Lars' hand and brought it to his lips, trailing his tongue over the champagne flavored appendages as he let out a soft noise of approval. Releasing the blushing blonde's fingers with a pop, he chuckled and looked up at him wickedly.

"Guid year." He teased lightly, Lars just shaking his head and pouring out the glasses for them both in response. Accepting the sparkling glass from his lover's hands, he chuckled as he lightly tapped his against Lars'. "To yer health." He winked, taking a sip with a soft hum only to laugh when Lars scooped him up and carried him into the bedroom. "Yer makin' me feel like some sort of girl ye git! Stop carrying me around like ah'm broken."

"You're not broken?" Lars asked in amusement as he laid Iain out on the sheets before sprawling out beside him, laughing when some of Iain's champagne splashed over his face when he bounced the bed. "Damn…" he chuckled, leaning forward and trailing his lips over Iain's cheeks before the man could protest, earning a choked noise and a sudden rush of color to the man's face.

Squirming as Lars moved closer to him, Iain chuckled as he shoved his face away and shook his head. "Ah haven't had a drink yet there, fiesty~ yer supposed to let me get drunk before ye start trying to get in mah pants." He winked playfully, his worries from earlier fading as he chugged down his glass before moving to refill it.

"The champagne will still be there in the morning." Lars protested, leaning in and brushing his lips across Iain's neck as his hand slid over his pale arm and wrapped around his slim wrist, smiling as he pried the glass from his hands. Iain glared softly when he felt his glass disappear, a shiver sending him leaning back into Lars' side.

"Yer so impatient…" he whispered, though a smile was parting his lip as the man pulled him into his arms. Looking up at him slowly, he felt his heart lurch when the intensity of his lover's gaze finally rested on his own. Lowering his eyes down to Lars' chest, he sighed and reached out to slowly unbutton the man's shirt, frowning as bandages covering Lars' far older wounds were revealed. "Speaking of clumsy…" he whispered, only to shiver as the man lurched forward and claimed his lips with his own.

Reaching up with hands as desperate as the lips on his own, Iain tangled his fingers into the Dutchman's hair his fingers tugging at the pale locks with a groan that split his lips and allowed the blonde to slide his tongue into his undefended mouth. Feeling the larger man's much warmer body pull him up and onto his lap, Iain shivered and helped the strong fingers that were fumbling with his shirt.

There wasn't much foreplay in his lover's advances; the touches that Lars was pressing to his sides, back and face were desperate and lingering. There was none of the breathless moments where they would both hesitate long enough to take a drink from the bottle now resting by the bed, or the breathless laughter that would normally fill the air. Each touch was meaningful, lasting, and almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. Lars was looking down at him as if this would be one of their last times, and could he blame him? In the five months since the world had started to crumble at the seams, they hadn't exactly been assured that they would live to see another day.

The fingers fumbling with his belt were far more clumsy than usual, the body pulling him further onto his lap more ridged. The kisses though, they were all passion, all desperation. Passion that Iain was quick to return in his own fashion, his hands moving to shove Lars down onto the bed as he climbed over the top of him.

Silence. The noticeable lack of any noises beside skin grinding against skin as Iain's hips started to roll up against his lover's and the soft muffled moans that Lars was pressing into his Scotsman's shoulder was enough to remind them both that they were afraid. They were afraid of being heard by the creatures downstairs, or by the monster like men roaming in the streets.

They were naked and vulnerable in the position that they were in, if one of the beasts downstairs figured out how to get up the stairs, and if they brought a few friends, they would both be doomed. They were putting so much on the line for a few fleeting moments of passion, but neither of them had the will power to tell the other to stop touching, to stop the other's hands from wandering over scarred and bruised skin.

"Lars…" Iain whispered shakily as he lifted his lover's hand up to his lips and slowly started to trail his tongue over the strong appendages shivering as its twin wandered down his back and lightly gripped at his rear. Pale green eyes glanced slowly up at his, drawn away from studying the freckled skin that chapped lips were trailing over, understanding of the desperate look in the jade eyes staring down at him.

"I've got you sweetheart." The man breathed as he pulled his fingers from the man's lips reluctantly, his breathing coming in soft pants. Sliding his slicked fingers over the curve of his lover's rear, he didn't bother with the teasing touches that he knew would make his the red head squirm as he pressed the first of the appendages inside his lover.

The resounding gasp that filled the air was enough to send Lars shooting upwards, pulling Iain against his chest as he slammed his lips against his lover's trembling as he used his free arm to hold the pale man against his chest.

Trembling as Lars' fingers probed and searched inside him, Iain gasped and arched his sweat slicked body into the man's muscular chest. He would never claim the soft muffled moans and whimpers that fell from his lips while Lars stretched him far too quickly to be comfortable, and he certainly wouldn't admit that he felt tears rolling down his face as he pressed his lips shakily into Lars' neck. After all: he didn't cry.

Slender fingers clenched around Lars' shoulders as the stretching stopped just long enough for the Dutchman's hands to move Iain until he could feel a the man's throbbing length pressing up against his quivering entrance. "Ready?" The gentle question brushing against Iain's ear was quickly accompanied by gentle teeth grazing over a sensitive earlobe, leaving the red head arching and bucking towards his lover's warmth.

"D…damn it ye…ye fuckin' tease~" He rasped softly, pressing his face into Lars' neck as the man chuckled beneath him, the resounding shout that the Scot released muffled by his shoulder as the blond slowly pressed up into his tight heat.

His hands gripping onto his lover's back desperately, Iain bit his own lip to avoid accidentally biting his lover's shoulder. Not many people were willing to listen anymore when they spotted a bite mark. If Lars was bitten, even by him, anyone they came across would shoot him on sight.

Skin slapped against skin as Lars gently thrust up into his gasping lover, his face pressed into the crimson sweat slicked hair. In his arms, Iain's body tensed and trembled, jade eyes shut as he fought desperately to keep the noises forming in his throat from spilling out.

Trembling as sweat rolled down his face, Iain shuddered and tightened suddenly when a series of gunshots filled the air in the street floors below them. "It's al…alright sweetheart…they ca….can't get to us…fuck…relax." Lars' soothing voice reminded him, a strong hand moving to pull his face into the crook of his neck a bit more securely. Feeling tan fingers tangling into his hair, Iain nodded and allowed himself to relax against his lover's form. It took only a few more minutes to allow the Dutchman to once again become his focus, the center of his world.

His back arching noticeably, he whimpered as he bucked into his touch. "That's right…nngh… you're safe…I've got you…" Lars promised sweetly, rocking their hips together in a way that wouldn't leave Iain unable to walk the next morning. He had to take his time. If he didn't, he would be handicapping the most important person in his life.

The gunshots and screams of the undead soon faded into the background, the two men more focused on the feeling of sweat soaked skin sliding over sweat soaked skin.

A few moments later, Iain's lips parted into a strangled shout that left his toes curling and his fingers digging into Lars' back. Arching off the bed with a gasping cry, he felt his release spray over both of their stomachs. Slumping against his lover's shoulder, he felt the Dutchman twitch at the sudden unfamiliar tightness. Lars' release followed shortly afterwards, the warmth that filled Iain leaving him squirming against his lover's chest.

Trembling violently, Lars slowly lowered himself onto the bed, allowing Iain to shakily slide off of his length with a soft groan. Smiling, the blond glanced up at the man lustily, only to frown when he spotted the tears streaming down the man's face.

Sighing, he slowly pulled the redhead into his arms ignoring the man's reluctant noises of protest. Closing his eyes, he pulled the blankets over them both as Iain let out a trembling sob. Soon enough, the red head breaking down in his lover's arms as for the first time since the entire ordeal began, Iain allowed himself to let go.

Lars never probed his lover for information. He didn't even speak as the man wept against his shoulder. Instead he just rocked the man slowly; knowing that once the sun rose Iain would be back to his normal self. He didn't know how to handle his fears or his grief, anger he could manage, but not fear. He would break down; cling to Lars like his life depended on it, but once he let it go he would be fine.

So there he remained. Wrapped around his lover like a security blanket while the jade eyes he loved so much remained stubbornly clenched shut in pain and distress. He knew that things would never be easy in the world that they lived in, and that one day he might have to watch his lover die of some wound or disease that they had no way to treat. Then realizing that no matter what he would be right behind him.

It didn't take long for him to doze off, his arms wrapped tightly around his lover's form like a vice. The next thing that he realized was happening, was feeling a calloused palm gently touch his cheek, and a pair of rough weather dried lips pressing against his own. His eyes fluttering open, he smiled as Iain looked down at him, already dressed and holding two cans of some sort of soup in his hands.

"Come on darlin…we've got to get going before too late. The fuckin' biters are only out of commission for a few hours in the day." Iain explained as he pressed one of the cans into his lover's hands before sitting down in front of him and starting to work at opening his own.

Looking down at the soup, Lars laughed softly and nodded, glancing up at the red head when he heard the man let out a victorious sound the man already digging into the now open containers contents.

Cold soup on a stranger's bed, feeling dirty and sore from the night before as he looked forward to a day filled with stumbling cannibals and murderous thugs. It really should have bothered him a lot more than it did, but looking at the thrilled look on his lover's face as he dug into the meager meal, he couldn't help but smile. It wasn't much of a life, but as long as he had the feisty little redhead life it was definitely worth living.


End file.
